


you know everything you do is killing me

by heartfounded



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Dissociation, Emotional Constipation, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Nightmares, Slow Burn, To the fucking max, but these boys are Stupid, eddie is also an unreliable narrator, idiots to lovers, im sorry yall, the idiot is eddie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:27:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24348736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfounded/pseuds/heartfounded
Summary: Buck’s buttoning up his uniform by the time Eddie gets into the locker room. Eddie nods in greeting, not yet trusting himself to speak. For all that he wants to say to Buck -about Alex, about Christopher – he can’t put it into words.“So,” Buck says slowly. There’s a bitterness there, an anger that Eddie has rarely heard from him. It’s unnerving. “You’re only okay with me seeing people if they’re girls, right? I gotta say Eddie, I’m surprised.”(Or, Buck gets a boyfriend and Eddie gets jealous.)
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 276





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from: taking off by one okay rock

Eddie is comfortably and pleasantly warm. Maybe even _happy_. Take that, Frank. Maybe this is why he’s still going to sessions with Frank. Instead of cheering on his happiness, he sees it as a win against his therapist. He shakes the thought loose. He isn’t going to dwell on that now.

His happiness might have something to do with Chimney’s heavy-handed pouring, but Eddie wants to believe it has more to do with _this_ : with the kids ducking between the adults in a complicated game of freeze tag, Bobby and Athena dancing despite the chaos, May rolling her eyes at Michael’s loud boasting, Hen whispering in Karen’s ear on the couch, Maddie not so gently shouting at Chimney to go easy on the alcohol.

It’s rare that they’re all together just because they can be. An impromptu party not prompted by anything other than corresponding days off and a hot summer that calls for grilling, cold mixed drinks, and loud kids. There’s no worry lingering in the air, no reminders of crushing ladder trucks or natural disasters. No careful glances at Buck to see if he’ll suddenly cough up blood or faint or some other heart-breaking medical emergency.

 _Buck_.

If Buck’s absence makes Eddie’s gut twist – and it _does_ – no one could tell with the easy smile gracing his lips. And with Chimney’s criminally spiked drinks, he has a quick excuse for whatever expression pulls at his lips.

He lets himself get lost in the loud sounds of summer. He lets himself get lost in the pleasant warmth pooling in his cheeks – how much tequila did Chimney add? Then Hen’s throwing her arms around Eddie with a loud laugh, pulling him back down to Earth.

“Eddie Diaz!” He grins at her greeting, even though they’ve both been here for about an hour already. “You’re smiling like a firecracker over here. Wanna share with the class?”

“Just enjoying this.” Eddie answers.

Christopher darts past them with a loud shriek before diving between Bobby and Athena, causing the dancing pair to break apart. Athena rolls her eyes as Bobby shakes his head with a smile as he reminds the nine-year-old to slow down. Christopher accepts the words with a respectful nod, satisfying Eddie. Harry knocks into Athena, who isn’t as gentle as Bobby with her reminder.

“Hey, dad, when Buck’s getting here?” Christopher skids to a stop in front of him. Eddie looks down at his son, smiling wider at his crooked glasses and messy hair.

Hen laughs, squeezing Eddie’s shoulders once more before dropping her arms in order to lean down and calm some of Chris’s wilder curls. “He’ll be here soon, Christopher. He had to pick up a friend from the airport. Maybe your dad can see what’s taking him so long?” Two pairs of eyes look at him, wide and expectant. No wonder Hen had been so quick to answer Chris’s question.

“Yeah! He promised he’s play tag with us. Please, dad!” Christopher’s messy curls, wide eyes, and bright smile are an impossible combination that Eddie can’t possibly turn down. Hen, for her part, just smirks.

Eddie sighs dramatically, making a show of deciding as he pulls out his phone, earning small pokes to his thigh and more pleases from Christopher. “Okay, I will. But,” He reminds Christopher. “Buck’s driving so he may not text back. I’ll let know when he’s close if I can, okay?”

“ _You_ text sometimes in the car.” Christopher says with a pout, but he doesn’t say anything more as he scrambles away from Denny’s outstretched arm, Hen and himself forgotten completely now that he has an answer.

Hen straightens up with a snort. “You gotta love kids. They never miss a chance to throw you under the bus.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Speaking from Chimney’s drinks.” She answers with a satisfied smile.

“Shouldn’t you be pacing yourself?” Eddie asks, throwing her a careful look. Despite being on the better side of buzzed – the nice and warm side where things are blissful and liquid – he still has to drive home. He’ll finish the drink he has now and call it quits. By the time they’ll be ready to head home, he’ll be clear headed enough to drive.

“Hell no!” Hen laughs. “Karen’s watching the kids and I’ll dry out here if I need too. But I’m guessing if you’re asking, you are?”

“Yeah, we’re spending the day with Abuela tomorrow. I’d prefer to avoid her scolding. Besides, I don’t think my liver can handle it. Last time Chimney mixed drinks, I spent the morning on Buck’s bathroom floor.”

Hen raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re not gonna ask?”

He frowns, “About what?”

“Who’s not asking what?” Maddie joins in, seemingly done with whatever madness Chim’s creating in the kitchen. Her eyes linger on Hen before darting to Eddie, something in the look makes his stomach twist.

“Eddie here isn’t asking about Buck’s friend. Or should we say _date_?” Hen supplies helpfully, looking pleased. Almost smug.

Eddie reminds himself to keep breathing calmly, to keep the same happy smile he’s been sporting.

Maddie only raises an eyebrow before shrugging. “I kinda figured you knew more than we did, Eddie. I’ve barely heard anything about Alex since they started dating last month. I didn’t even know what the guy did for a living till I bribed Buck with cookies last week.”

Eddie’s stomach drops and he covers his grimace with a cough. He’s thankful for the drink in his hand, taking a generous gulp as he tries to calm his thoughts. The alcohol is a welcome burn as _guy_ summersaults around and lodges in his brain. Guy, guy, _guy_. Buck is dating a guy. Buck has a boyfriend. Buck has a boyfriend and he didn’t tell Eddie. Buck has a –

“You okay, Eddie?” Maddie’s words startle him enough that he nearly spills his drink.

“I – Yeah.” Eddie answers dumbly after another sip of his drink. Buck _had_ told Eddie about Alex. Little details, little impressions. The kind of things you learned about a new date – their taste in coffee, a quirk or two. Nothing, _nothing_ , enough for Eddie to have known that Alex wasn’t a girlfriend like he’d been assuming. “Uh, I was trying to think if I might know anything interesting. You know, from locker room talk.” He cringes as soon as he says it, resulting in a ‘ew’ from Hen and a disgusted look from Maddie.

Maddie holds up her hand. “I don’t want to hear about my brother’s sex life.”

“Yeah, well.” Eddie’s stumbling now, cheeks heating – hopefully just from the potent drink in his hands. “I was gonna say I think it’s serious because I don’t think Buck’s bragged about it and we all know he would.”

“Honestly, I’m thankful. Buck seems happy.” Maddie says blowing right past the subject of Buck’s sex life, saving Eddie from further embarrassment. “He deserves some happiness after Abby came back and fucked with his head.”

The mention of Abby has him taking another long sip and he realizes with a frown he’s finished his drink in a few too short minutes. Mentioning a weak excuse of checking on Christopher, he recycles his cup and snags a water from the kitchen, just narrowly avoiding Chim’s attempts to take another sinful concoction. It’s too tempting to get lost in the haze of alcohol, to ignore the unease growing in his chest. Instead, Eddie plays the role of the responsible adult he tries to be, finding Christopher shrieking along with the other kids in the backyard.

Between the two drinks and whatever made up rules the kids have added, Eddie can’t figure out who’s chasing who. It doesn’t matter. The game turns into hide and seek that he’s roped into.

An hour passes in a blur of hiding with Christopher and chasing after kids who insist that they’re not found unless they’ve been tagged. He crouches behind the couch next to Christopher, ignoring Hen and Karen’s snickering. There’s the tell-tale sound of the door opening followed by Buck’s loud hello and a voice he doesn’t recognize but can only belong to the mystery Alex. Eddie stills, unsure of how exactly to introduce himself given his current position, but Christopher’s scrambling away quickly, shouting Buck’s name a mile a minute so it blurs into something unrecognizable.

There’s a selfish part of him that wishes he would have kept Christopher by his side, his own personal shield, but he stands anyway, watching as Christopher crashes into Buck’s legs.

Hen sighs, almost wistful. “Now, that. That’s a gorgeous man.”

Eddie swallows. Hen _isn’t_ wrong, which stings in a way it shouldn’t. Alex is all limbs, similar to Buck, but somehow different in the loose way he holds himself. Tan skin, a few shades darker than Eddie’s, and black curls that bounce as he laughs at whatever’s being exchanged between Christopher and Buck. If he didn’t know any better, he’d guess Buck was dating a model.

Something twists in his gut as Alex ruffles Christopher’s hair. Hen hits him lightly in the stomach, catching his attention. He’s just standing there awkwardly watching from behind the couch with no real reason to. He shuffles around to sit next to Hen. Karen reaches over to squeeze his knee. Hen’s extra affection is understandable with the alcohol currently clouding her brain, but Karen’s is… Karen’s affection is oddly comforting. Reassuring.

It shouldn’t be. There’s nothing Eddie needs to be reassured about.

He watches as Christopher resumes tag, leaving the pair to themselves. Holding hands, he realizes. Buck’s smile is infectious, but Alex’s is lighting up the whole room. He didn’t think that possible with Buck’s mega-watt smile. Nothing should outshine that. Yet, Alex’s does. Eddie kinda wishes he had something to block it out. He watches as the pair makes the rounds – first Michael and his doctor boyfriend, Athena and Bobby who were eagerly waiting behind them, then disappearing from his view to presumably say hi to Maddie and Chim. While he can’t see either radiant smiles, he can hear laughter. If he knows Maddie, that signals approval.

“You gonna stop staring a hole in the carpet?” Hen’s asking before erupting into a new fit of giggles, leaving Eddie confused and Karen shaking her head. He’s not sure who the head shake is aimed at.

All too soon, Buck’s leading Eddie towards them. Eddie straightens up a little as Buck introduces Alex to Hen and Karen. And then there’s a hand reaching towards him, Eddie staring a little dumbly at it.

“And you must be the Eddie I’ve heard so much about!” Alex’s voice is liquid warmth.

Eddie forces himself to stand up, trying to shake whatever expression is clouding his features before shaking Alex’s hand. “And you’re Alex.” He does his best to match the same excited tone. It sounds flat to his ears, but there’s no snickering or huffs from the peanut gallery so maybe it goes unnoticed.

Alex and Buck settle on the couch opposite of them, virtually sitting on top of each other. He gets it, they’re a lovey-dovey couple deep in the throes of the honeymoon stage, but does it need to be shoved down their throats?

“I’m sure it’s all bad things.” Eddie offers weakly in an attempt at humor. He’s really only funny when he’s not trying to be or the joke’s obvious and this is… this is the type of thing you’re supposed to say to your best friend’s model like boyfriend. This is the type of normal, expected reaction he’s meant to give. Eddie can do normal.

Hen snorts, Karen hushing her as Buck laughs. “What? Little faith in me, Eds?”

 _Eds_. Usually, Eddie smiles at the nickname. Buck adds an ‘s’ to most everything in a way that’s sweet. Tonight, it just sits in his gut uncomfortably. “Well, you get a little excited when telling stories.”

“You exaggerate. _Sometimes_.” Hen adds at Buck’s wounded expression.

“Oh, I can only imagine what’s been said about me then.” Alex grins and there’s a mischievousness to it. He’s pretty sure he sees Buck blush. There’s also no in way in hell that Eddie’s touching that comment. Not at all.

“That’s not fair.” Buck pouts. “You _both_ can’t gain up on me.”

“You think it’s just those two?” Hen interjects. “Boy, we’re all gonna roast you.”

“Sorry, Buck.” Karen looks a little sympathetic but more amused. “You know what they say: the family that roasts together, stays together.”

“No one actually says that.” Buck whines as Alex shifts closer to him. How the hell is he shifting closer when there’s zero space between them already? Eddie swallows because it’s easier than speaking. Because he shouldn’t be staring at their thighs. At Buck’s thighs. Nope. He shouldn’t be staring. At all.

“I don’t mind at all.” Alex teases. “I love any opportunity to roast your dorky ass.” He kisses Buck lightly.

He can feel Hen staring, Karen too, so he shakes his head, queasiness rolling his stomach due to the drinks. Running around with the kids hadn’t helped either.

“So, uh Alex, what do you do?” Whatever little talent he has with words withers up. Eddie might not be great at conversation, but he is at fitting in. Or, well, he should be. It was a good skill to have in the army, serving with men you’re meant to keep alive, keep talking no matter their condition.

“My boring job? I work for a tech start up. It’s a bunch of computer mumbo jumbo none of you want to hear about at a party, so I won’t bore you. But the fun stuff?” Buck perks up at that, already perky – now perkier. Buck is pushing the boundaries of human emotion with Alex. “Working with kids – I help run a computer literacy program that teaches kids to code. _Actually_ , it’s how Buck and I met a few months ago.”

Hen finds her voice again, asking, “At the boys and girls club?”

“Y-Yeah.” Buck, for all that he’s been grinning and open, seems to hesitate now. “I started volunteering after the lawsuit.” At that, he glances at the floor but then the moment, the hesitance, is over so quick Eddie’s not sure it happened at all.

Eddie knew Buck was volunteering. That isn’t new information – but the where, the with? He never told Eddie, despite his asking. It’s not like he pushed, because Eddie doesn’t push, he doesn’t force. He waits. He swallows up whatever he wants to ask, wants to say, and waits. He _waits_. But he did ask. A few times, whenever Buck came over a few minutes late with an apology on his lips. One time even offering to help Buck with whatever it was. Buck always shrugged it off, so Eddie let it be.

Except.

Except Hen knew. Hen knew enough to know where he was volunteering. So, Buck told people – people who weren’t Eddie. Great. He’s glad for the water bottle in his hands, something to occupy them as he flexes his fingers.

“He’s great with kids!” Alex lights up, smoothing over whatever unease hangs in the air at the mention of the lawsuit. “You should see him – always knows what to say, doesn’t treat them like they can’t understand the world they live him.”

Whatever’s rolling around his stomach lessens a little at that because he knows. He _knows_. Buck is wonderful with Christopher. It gets him out of his head enough to say: “Did Buck tell you about the time he told a bunch of children, in front of their parents, that santa’s not real?”

Like Karen said, roasting is a family affair.

And maybe if he leans into that, leans into the role that’s been laid out for him as Buck’s best friend, no one will detect his stormy thoughts. No one will catch on that he’s thinking about Buck’s thighs, or his lips, or the way he’s tracing idle patterns into the back of Alex’s hands. No one will think any of that catches Eddie attention.

It shouldn’t. It _doesn’t_. Eddie doesn’t notice any of it. (If he tells himself that enough times, he’ll start to believe it.)

Conversation turns to funny calls and funnier mishaps during them. Eddie does his best to contribute, but it’s not unsurprising that Hen and Buck dominate the conversation. Buck covers most of the calls he’d mention anyway so Eddie just adds in quick tidbits where he can. Being teased over being broody and sullen over meals at the station means that now, when he _actually_ is, there’s no surprise or shock over it. His silence goes unnoticed for the most part.

“Eddie?” Hen squeezes his knee, hard enough to make him jolt slightly.

“Ah, sorry.” He says quickly, sitting up straighter and looking sheepish. “Kinda zoned out there for a second.”

“Sure you didn’t fall asleep, old man?” Buck offers, all smiles.

“You didn’t spend an hour chasing the kids around the house after drinking whatever the hell it is that Chimney’s made. You’d need a nap too.” He quips back.

“Didn’t you make a point of telling me Christopher goes slow once?” There’s a challenge in Buck’s eyes.

“Did you have Chimney’s drinks?” He repeats, not breaking the stare. Neither Alex nor Buck had sat down with any. And unless he had truly dozed off, they hadn’t gotten up to get one either.

“Boys.” Karen sighs dramatically. “You see, Alex? This is the stuff we have to deal with constantly.”

“They’re like an old married couple. Always bickering.” Hen sighs, shaking her head. Maybe it’s the wrong thing say because she quickly adds: “Anyway, Buck, you were mentioning that Christopher would like coding?”

He meets Bucks eyes and they’re blue. It’s not like Eddie _doesn’t_ know. Buck’s face is as familiar as his own. Maybe even more. He knows how to read each subtle shift in expression. Working with someone side by side, someone you trust to have your back, for twenty-four shifts three to four days a week with days off spent together, you notice things. Eddie can count the moles on Buck’s back, knows about the silvery stretch marks on his thighs. But Buck’s eyes being blue, sparkling light and bright _blue_ – how has he never notice before?

And why is he noticing now, when Buck is, quite literally, curled up with his very handsome boyfriend?

“Yeah! I mean, I know he’s a whiz at math.” Buck had taken Christopher out for ice cream last week for a job well done on his math test. “It’ll be a good a fit. They wouldn’t mind if Chris comes along on one of the days I volunteer.” Which is Buck saying he’s already asked and gotten it approved; he’s just waiting on Eddie.

“Yeah, we’ll figure it out.”

As if hearing his name – possibly he did, though, if he were hiding behind the couch there would’ve been giggles – Christopher climbs into Eddie’s lap. He wraps his arms him, sitting his chin on his son’s head. He closes his eyes for a second, lets the conversation around them fade into white noise as he lets Christopher’s presence ground him.

It’s hard to hate Alex, he’s realizing as conversation turns to LA’s ridiculous rent prices – filtered heavily for Chris’s benefit. (After all, the only proper way to discuss rent prices here is to curse it.) It’s not that Eddie’s actively looking for reasons to dislike Alex, like Eddie’s not eyeing Buck’s thighs. It’s that Buck’s been burned too many times. He’s just looking out for Buck. His best friend. This is a best friend’s duty. This is expected of him, like everything before. He’s just being Buck’s bro by looking out. It’s hard to hate Alex because there’s nothing about him to hate. He makes sure no one is left out of the conversation too long, brings up stuff that Buck’s told him about, and is kind to Christopher. 

Best friend duty, complete: Buck’s boyfriend isn’t a dick.

He should be happy about it. Recognizing happiness and feeling it are vastly different, at least for him. Too often he’s stuck on the side of unfeeling awareness.

“Daaad, you’re tickling me!” Christopher whines, kicking out so he loosens his grip. The back of Chris’s neck is ultra-sensitive – Eddie’s too.

“Sorry, buddy.” He sits up so he’s no longer slouching into his son and exhaling on his neck. “Better?”

Christopher nods but before long he’s squirming to get out his lap. Eddie helps him stand with a tiny sigh, missing his warmth already. As soon as he’s down and steady, he’s turning towards Buck with what Eddie can only imagine are huge puppy dog eyes.

“Bucky, tag.” He doesn’t have to say anything more – it’s not even phrased as a question - Buck’s already scooping him up, on the hunt for the other kids.

In the lull that follows their departure, Eddie’s speaking before he’s fully processed the question tumbling out of his lips. “So, you’re okay with Buck being a firefighter? Cause you seem like a great guy, but everyone’s okay with it till it gets touch. Shifts run long, the schedule isn’t the kindest, and sometimes we get hurt. You okay with all that?” At some point it goes from question to accusation, voice and body tight.

“Eddie.” Hen and Karen echo each other.

Alex waves them off. “No, it’s fine. I don’t mind a little shovel talk. I’d want my best mate to do the same for me.”

“Yeah, well?” Eddie pushes.

“We just started dating.”

“You’ve known each other for a few _months_.” He’s pushing, tittering on an invisible edge.

“What I think about Evan’s career is my own business. You ever interrogate your son about your job? I know what absent fathers can do to kids.” Alex mutters something about saying hi to Maddie, up and away before Eddie can even curse him.

His blood boils. He wants to hit something. He wants the crunch of bones underneath his fists, the roar of adrenaline drowning out any noise.

“Easy there, killer.” Hen soothes, squeezing his wrist. He relaxes the fist he wasn’t aware he was clenching. Eddie lets her tether him. Punching Buck’s boyfriend while Bobby’s around won’t play well. For anyone. “I wanna smack him senseless too.”

“But?” He grounds out. He can hear the unspoken word hanging in the air between them. Karen mumbles that she’s going to check in on Denny and Nia, leaving them in heavy silence. “But?” He repeats, jaw still clenched.

“You kinda had something coming.” Hen holds up her hands quickly. “I’m not saying he should’ve said that. At all.” She shakes her head, looking equal parts disgusted and angry. “ _That_ particular comment was uncalled for and I will be sure he knows.” The scowl she gives now is one he’s familiar with. Hen’s not to be messed with.

“So, what did I have coming then? Cause it wasn’t _uncalled_ for.” Ali, some girlfriend of Howie’s he can’t remember the name of but has heard the stories. Other tales of horror from others on their shift. Significant others cracking isn’t unheard of.

Shannon cracked too.

“Maybe not completely, but when you’re staring daggers at the _both_ of them? When you’re barely contributing to the conversation? And don’t you dare blame the alcohol, Eddie. You can hold your liquor and I’m having this very adult conversation with you right now.” Her words are cheapened by the small hiccup that follows.

Eddie leans back with a huff. “I’m trying to look out for Buck.”

“I know you are.” Hen softens. “But he doesn’t need a guard dog, he needs his best friend.”

Eddie is silent. He’s still angry. He forces a breath. It’s getting late. Although he doesn’t have to be at Abuela’s till midafternoon, he knows Christopher will be fading into sleep soon. But he’s still angry enough that collecting Chris and getting in the car right now isn’t advisable. They’ve all seen the affects of driving angry.

“I asked because I _am_ his best friend.”

“I know. I just –“Hen sighs. “This doesn’t get back to Maddie,” She half whispers it, glancing around despite the quiet around them. Making whatever she’s about to share more dramatic than it needs to be. “But your opinion, how you handle this, might just matter more than her’s.”

Eddie knits his eyebrows together. “Why would my opinion matter more? Hen?”

Hen sighs, “You are driving me to drink, Eddie.”

“ _Hen_.”

“Eddie, you’re his best friend. He brought home a nice boyfriend for all of us to meet. He’s _happy_! Don’t ruin it by being some possessive asshole.”

“Hen! He called me an absent father!” Whatever progress he’s made with calming down is gone in an instant, the urge to hit something renewed.

And it was true, Eddie had been an absent father. His blood boils at the truth of it all. He left Christopher before he was born because he’d gotten married too quickly, spurred on by Shannon’s mother’s cancer diagnosis. Felt trapped by an unplanned pregnancy. He re-enlisted because he knew he needed to provide – that’s what Diaz men did. That’s what was expected of him as a father. As a husband. He stuck to that role, but it wasn’t enough. Not for his parents. Not for Shannon. Not for Christopher.

He realized in El Paso, filling that strict role, the idea branded into his very fiber by his parents, would always come at Christopher’s expense.

Unfortunately, being a single father means all too often he’s sacrificing time with Christopher to make sure the lights stay on, there’s food on the table, doctor’s and pt appointments are booked, keeps tuition paid for and Christopher happy – none the wiser to the financial struggle. With Carla, Tia Pepa, Abuela, Buck, and the one-eighteen, Christopher’s happiness is a constant. There’s no question, no worry, that he is loved. It makes missing school pick up and drop offs, meals, weekends bearable.

At least, Eddie hopes Christopher never worries or questions his love, his worth. Before, it was the one thing Eddie was sure of – that Christopher _knew_. The tsunami, Shannon’s death, his own unwillingness to voice his fears broke something in Christopher. It- _he_ made his son hide away his pain in fear of upsetting him. Despite being past that – therapy sessions are once a month now, nightmares even fewer – Alex’s comment stirs all of it up.

Maybe Eddie’s not an absent father in the way Alex meant, but he’s messed up all the same. Might be messing up _still_ and –

“And I’ll make sure the asshole knows how wrong he is.” Hen says, sounding more like some odd growl, snapping Eddie from his spiraling thoughts. “I’ll give him my own shovel talk. Burry him with it too if I have to. Just don’t let one bad moment ruin all of this, okay?”

“But what type of impression did Buck give him to make him say that? Huh?” It chills him to the bone. Buck wouldn’t. Except maybe Buck _had_. “It’s late.” He says, standing up and pushing into the backyard, ignoring Hen’s response.

He finds a corner the yard that’s quiet and forces himself to breathe deeply.

Frank leads their sessions by asking if he’s done any of the breathing exercises. He keeps suggesting them, Eddie keeps ignoring them. There are ones for mediation, things to try before he goes to bed, something for when he just wakes, and some for moments like these when blood roars in his ears. Frank, when he inquires about it, doesn’t make the distinction between practicing them versus needing them. Not that it matters, Eddie does neither. Now, though, he’s wondering if he tells Frank the truth, if he’ll ask for the distinction. Practice or needed?

Needed.

Eventually he comes back down to himself. He can breathe without feeling his blood rush. Pushing off the walk, he navigates through the yard as he scans around for Christopher. It’s not the most crowded Bobby’s and Athena’s has been but all the same it’s too much. He wants to pick up his son, hold him close, and get home.

He wants, rather he _needs_ , this night to be over. 

“You alright, Eddie?” At the hand on his shoulder, he turns towards Bobby. There’s no missing the worry on his captain’s face. Bobby’s good at reading him were others aren’t.

“Yeah,” Because maybe he doesn’t feel great now, but he’s no longer angry. There’s no longer the urge to hit something singing in his blood. He’ll be just fine tomorrow. “Yeah.” He repeats. “Just looking for Christopher.”

Bobby’s eyes soften. “I think I saw him with Buck. Not sure where they went though.” He squeezes Eddie shoulder – another touch that’s bordering on reassuring when it shouldn’t be – before letting him go back to his search.

He finds Buck tucked away in a dark corner, far away from the party. It’d be a great hiding spot if it weren’t for the fact that he’s lazily making out with Alex.

Eddie clears his throat.

“H-Hey.” Buck shifts away from Alex. Despite the dimness, Eddie can still see his blush.

“Where’s Christopher? We’re gonna head out.”

“Uh, I left him with May. He wanted to listen to music with her.”

“Well then he’s probably asleep.” It wouldn’t be the first time – he’s found Christopher tucked in May’s bed countless times before.

“You’re going so early?” He can hear the frown in Buck’s voice, the slight note of worry.

“Yeah. Gotta get Christopher to bed. We have an early day at Aubela’s. I promised her I’d refinish her back deck.” He doesn’t know why he’s explaining it. Except he doesn’t have to be over early, so a little honesty in a lie helps.

“Alex and I have plans for the morning, but I could stop by after? I haven’t seen your Abuela in a few weeks and you could use the help.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Spend the afternoon with Alex. We rarely get the whole weekend off like this.” Eddie hopes he doesn’t miss the mark of pleasant and welcoming – the tone of a best friend supporting their new relationship. 

“Just call if you need help, okay?”

“Sure, Buck.”

He’s halfway up the stairs when a hand lands on his shoulder. On instinct, he’s tensing as he turns. Someone wild part of him – the part he’s been warring with himself, the part that keeps noticing things he shouldn’t – hopes for Buck.

Eddie doesn’t bother to school his expression into something neutral as he takes in Alex before him.

“Listen, man.” There’s that blinding smile again, but there’s no warmth behind it. “I’m sorry for that crack earlier.”

“You should be.” He forces himself to breathe, to think of Christopher just up the stairs. Eddie can’t lose it now. He can’t. There’s more he wants to say – he wants to scream; he wants to rage but he swallows it all down. He _can’t_.

***

He relaxes under the hot spray of the shower. Refinishing Abuela’s deck had been more annoying than difficult with the heat. As Christopher played with her indoors, it gave him too much time to think of Buck. Of Alex and his stupid bright smile and stupider mouth. Of what Buck might have said to give Alex such an awful impression of him as a father.

Of Buck’s pink lips. Of his thighs.

If he takes himself in hand as he thinks of last night, of Buck, well then, he’s just trying to capitalize on a moment alone; work out how to tell Buck he’s making a mistake with Alex.

***

“Hey, dad.”

Eddie glances at Christopher through the rearview mirror. Christopher’s usual morning chatter had been subdued, he chalked it up to a long weekend. “What’s up, superman? Everything alright back there?”

“Yeah.” Chris falls silent again, which is so unlike him Eddie risks turning to his head to look at him. Maybe he’s getting a temperature. He does look a little pale. “Buck’s not gonna be around anymore is he?”

Eddie blinks hard, careful to keep his attention on the road as his brain works through _that_. Christopher sounds so… dejected. God, what had Eddie done to make his son think that Buck having a boyfriend meant he’d no longer be in their lives? He grips the steering wheel tightly. He needs to get it together. Christopher can’t be caught in the middle of another one of his emotional crises. He can’t give Christopher another reason to think he has to hide his feelings.

“Hey, buddie.” He says gently. “Buck’s gonna be around, I promise.” But he can’t promise. Not really. He couldn’t keep Shannon around, couldn’t keep her _alive_. He shouldn’t promise Buck, but Christopher looks so sad and Eddie’s heart can’t take it. “Movie night might not happen every week, but he’s still gonna come over and hang out. Okay? He thinks you’d like coding. That’s something you can do together.”

“He told me.” Christopher’s smiling as he says it.

Eddie counts it as a win even as he drives to work feeling numb and off balance.

Buck’s buttoning up his uniform by the time Eddie gets into the locker room. Eddie nods in greeting, not yet trusting himself to speak. For all that he wants to say to Buck -about Alex, about Christopher – he can’t put it into words.

“So,” Buck says slowly. There’s a bitterness there, an anger that Eddie has rarely heard from him. It’s unnerving. “You’re only okay with me seeing people if they’re girls, right? I gotta say Eddie, I’m surprised.”

 _Shit_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This have anything to do with Buckaroo ignoring you?” Hen’s always been good about seeing right through just about anyone, himself included.  
> He rubs the back of his neck. “That obvious?”  
> Hen laughs lightly. While it isn’t unkind, it sits uncomfortably all the same. “Yeah. It’s not hard to spot. The last time – “  
> “Was when he came back after the lawsuit.” He finishes for her. Except the circumstances were entirely different. He’d been the one with the power and the pain, ignoring Buck. Now that’s all he has, the pain. “Did you end up talking to Alex at the party?”

Eddie’s ears are ringing.

It isn’t unusual. He’s hardly the first soldier to return home with tinnitus. It is, however, rare that it bothers him during the day where there’s enough noise to cancel it out. Most of the time, it’s a low, dull drum he hears in the dead of night. Loud enough to be annoying, but low enough that with white noise he can get to sleep.

But ever since Buck slammed his locker shut this morning, Eddie’s ears have been ringing. Constant. 

He’s tried to talk to Buck. To explain himself - at least explain whatever he’s done to make Buck think _that_. But every time he dares to open his mouth, during truck restock, during lunch, during every calm moment that they’d usually spend laughing, he’s met with Buck avoiding his gaze.

It reminds him of the lawsuit, Buck being stupidly out of reach. At least then, he knew why Buck didn’t answer his texts and calls. Why he wasn’t around for Christopher. It’d been awful, but there was some small, microscopic bit of comfort in knowing the reason behind the distance even when he had been the one to keep it up afterword. Even when it had been him blowing up at the grocery store.

(God, he’ll never forgive himself for that. Never.)

Now he’s left stranded. He has no idea why Buck would say something like that. Why he would think something like that.

In the quiet between calls, he turns over the events of the party. Each time he comes back to Alex’s words. Each time he tastes bile, feels the heat rise in his blood, and reminds himself to breathe.

It looks like he’ll be telling Frank he had to use the breathing exercises. Multiple times.

“Hey, Hen.” It comes out quiet, so he clears his throat before repeating his greeting. He watches as she sits up in her bunk.

As evening has come and gone, it’s remained a quiet shit. Their most exciting call had been some frat house prank gone wrong and that had been hours ago now. Quiet can only mean trouble. It leaves them all on edge, waiting for a call that might not come. Adrenaline high with no place to go.

“What’s up?”

He feels weird just standing, looming over her, so he sits down on the edge of the bunk. Hen, sensing his uneasy mood, bumps his shoulder lightly.

“This have anything to do with Buckaroo ignoring you?” Hen’s always been good about seeing right through just about anyone, himself included.

He rubs the back of his neck. “That obvious?”

Hen laughs lightly. While it isn’t unkind, it sits uncomfortably all the same. “Yeah. It’s not hard to spot. The last time – “

“Was when he came back after the lawsuit.” He finishes for her. Except the circumstances were entirely different. He’d been the one with the power and the pain, ignoring Buck. Now that’s all he has, the pain. “Did you end up talking to Alex at the party?”

Hen frowns, an odd look twisting her lips. “Yeah, with Karen. With _you_.”

Eddie tips his head back, resisting the urge to sigh. He quiets the hum starting in his blood. If they don’t end up on a call, he’s going to have to take the edge off with the punching bag, _anything_. He won’t survive the rest of a quiet shift like this, with the burning under his skin just waiting to catch his body alight.

“Yeah, I know. But after?” After he left. After that awful crack about being a father. After she promised to give Alex a piece of her mind.

“After I what? _Oh_.” Her eyes widen, the pieces of the party clicking into place. She starts to stand, and he can’t see her face, can’t see if there’s a look of pity but can hear it leaking into her voice as she speaks, voice too soft. “Eddie, after you left Bobby made his margaritas. I was kinda gone after that. I can’t believe – “Her voice hardens at that; he recognizes the turn for anger.

She was kinda gone before that too – hiccupping on her words.

“You really went all out didn’t you?” He shakes his head, tries for a smile and hope it lands. He tries for anything that might make this smaller than it is. She can’t see the blaze that’s about to catch. He can’t risk it. “It’s fine that you didn’t.” He says decisively – puts everything into it, to sounding sure.

She’s standing now. Eddie can’t see her face but suspects it’s a mixture of anger and pity. Which emotion is worse, the anger directed at Alex (and some towards Buck) or the pity directed towards him, he isn’t sure.

So, he reaches out, tugging on her wrist lightly so she sits back down.

She’ll march up to loft right now, she’ll have words. When Hen sets her mind to something, there is no standing in her way. She promised to burry Alex with a shovel if need be and without Alex here it’ll be Buck who takes that brunt of that. And that – maybe it’s deserved because of whatever awful impression Buck’s given Alex – will only result in more trouble.

It’ll result something _big_. Something Eddie can’t reign back. Something that will make his skin catch fire. He’s just gotten over the want to pummel something, someone into nothingness.

His skin is so close, too close to burning now. It’ll only take a spark. One small spark.

He won’t survive the confirmation that Buck said something about him. Because that’s how it’ll go. Buck will use anything to defend his boyfriend’s words – there’s a reason for them. 

And now Buck thinks he’s what? Homophobic? Something like that. Buck’s angry too and him or Hen marching up there with criticism for his boyfriend…

Eddie won’t survive the fallout.

Chris won’t either. He can’t fuck things up for Chris again. He lost his mother, lost Buck once. He can’t lose Buck again – Eddie won’t let it happen.

He’ll deal with this. He’ll apologize to Buck and… And he’ll swallow down the hurt, the pain. He can do it.

“You sure?” Hen raises an eyebrow, not believing the false confidence. “I can say something or – “

“Hen, _really_.”

“Did _you_ do something at the party? Is this why Buck’s not talking to you?” She pushes.

“ _No_. I don’t know what’s going on.” At least it has the benefit of being true. “But just. Just don’t say anything, okay? It’ll be fine.”

“Listen, I won’t say anything to Buck or Alex because you don’t want me to, clearly, but let me say this: you are a good dad, Eddie. We all see that, even Buck. _Especially_ our Buck. I’m not going to pretend I understand why Alex would say something like what he did, but I don’t think it was because of him, okay?”

Hen shakes her head before continuing. “Things got heated. You were both angry. Sometimes we say things we don’t mean when we’re angry.”

Eddie’s remains silent – both because of the praise (the one he’s always desperate to hear, the relief cooling the embers for a second) and his unsureness about it all. He can’t believe it’s that simple. That it’s as simple as too many drinks and a heated conversation spiraling. He should believe it. It’s a kinder explanation than Buck saying something unkind, but he can’t.

It can’t be that simple. It never is.

The bell rings out, making them startle. He’s rarely thankful for the interruption but he is now – it saves him from having to come up with something to say. From addressing the ringing in his ears or the fire a second away from catching.

So long as he doesn’t go up in flames and drag Chris or Buck down with him, he’ll be fine.

There’s no other choice.

The ride to the call is normal. At least, as close as normal as he’s going to get for now.

“So, yeah, that’s why a hashtag is sometimes called an octothorpe. One theory, anyway.” Buck finishes, smile triumphant, as he leans back in his seat.

“But where does the ‘thorpe’ come from?” Eddie asks, hopeful.

Buck ignores him. Again.

“Hey, Chim – Did you know in chess tournaments they use the pound sign to indicate checkmate? It’s quicker than the double daggers they used to use.”

Chim shoots Eddie an odd look – what is with everyone checking on him? - before he shrugs. It’s a common enough reaction, just like Eddie asking to know more of Buck’s miscellaneous wiki deep dives, always a subject they rarely, if ever, know about. But this isn’t like all the times before, Buck ignoring him now broadcasts their rift to the entire crew in a way he can’t dodge in the station.

He opens his mouth to ask more. Maybe if he tries enough now, here in the truck, then Buck will let him apologize later but Bobby cuts him off before he can even ask. Orders are given out, Buck and Eddie paired together despite the tension everyone’s caught on to by now.

End of shift – if his skin isn’t on fire by then. He’ll apologize to Buck, for whatever misstep or wrong impression he’s made. He’ll make this right.

His side _aches_.

God, he doesn’t want to see the nasty blue and purple that’s already forming. His left side is going to be an ugly constellation of bruises for _days_.

It’s the only reason he lets Hen fuss over him so easily. Eddie doesn’t think he’s broken a rib or at risk for anything, but he knows if it looks bad then it really could be bad. That and Bobby’s hard stare, keeps him stock-still on the back of the ambo.

He doesn’t know where Buck is. Right now, he doesn’t care. He does, but not really. Not now. Afterall, Buck wasn’t the one who got slammed into the side of a cliff.

“Verdict, Hen?” Bobby grinds out, eyes not leaving Eddie. It makes him shiver.

“Don’t think they’re broken, Cap.” She answers. “He’s gonna be sore as hell tomorrow, though.”

“Good.” Bobby looks relieved but the look lasts only a second, jaw clenching. “Diaz, you want to tell me what the hell happened?”

Ask Buck, he thinks bitterly, relishing in the way the sourness stokes the embers.

He swallows it down. It might have been Buck’s fault – they’re stupid argument and his stubbornness that lead to Eddie’s injury, but he’s not about to throw his best friend under the bus. No matter how twisted and ugly things are between them currently, Buck loves his job and Eddie won’t put that at risk. Not when he knows that, ultimately, this is his fault.

“Miscommunication. Our lines got twisted. It was an accident.” Eddie answers evenly.

“You sure that’s all it was?” Bobby’s tone is… It’s a lot – disbelief, anger, worry, all mixing together.

“Yes, sir.” Eddie rarely thanks the army for anything. It left him with too many scars and memories that shake him awake at night. But it gave him self restraint, how to keep quiet when he just wants to scream, and he leans into that now.

Bobby shakes his head. He almost looks disgusted. Eddie isn’t sure. Sometimes it’s better not knowing.

“Whatever is going on between you, figure it out by next shift.” The words are stern with no room for argument. Eddie doesn’t exactly disagree, but he doesn’t know if two days is enough time to deal with the mess, the gaping hole they have quickly found themselves in.

“If you can’t, you’re not partnering together.” Bobby continues as Eddie sucks in a breath at that. He’s supposed to have Buck’s back no matter what. But, well, he realizes with a shock that has his gut twisting and his skin tingling, Buck’s supposed to have his back too and he didn’t tonight. “And if something happens again, one of you is moving shifts.”

And it’ll be Buck – Eddie knows that before he can figure out how to ask it as the fire lurking under his skin threatens to catch alight and drag them all down with him. It’ll be Buck who’s made to swtich because Eddie has Christopher and Bobby’s prioritizes kids and family where he can, and he’ll make Buck move to second or third shift and –

“Ride back with the ambo.” He orders, giving Eddie one last look before he’s off to the ladder truck.

“Eddie,” Hen begins, too soft. It’s the kind of voice he’s heard her use with Denny and Nia, close to the tone he uses with Christopher after a bad dream. He hates it.

He shrugs, shaking his head. Now that Bobby’s gone, he can feel the adrenaline crash seeping in. His side throbs horribly. Even if they don’t get called out again before their shift officially ends early in the morning, he knows he won’t be able to sleep. The bunks aren’t comfortable on a good night, there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to find a position with the bruises snaking up his left flank. No way he’ll find sleep with the fire ready to sweep his veins or the ringing that won’t cease.

The ride back to the station is quiet. Tense.

He tries to spend it thinking of what he’ll say to Buck, how he’ll apologize. But he’s never been one with words and he keeps thinking of Alex and his stupid face and stupid mouth and the way Buck had pressed so close.

By the time they get back to the station, his palms have deep indents from his nails.

He wants to punch something. He wants to feel the burn in his muscles, he wants his aching chest to scream. It’s the only thing that will quiet the fire that’s ready to spring to life in his veins, the ringing in his ears that’s back in full force.

Chim tries for light conversation while he gathers up his toiletries for a shower. Usually, he’s grateful for the stupid banter they get up to in the locker room but now Eddie ignores him. He doesn’t have the energy for it. Buck is absent.

Good, maybe he’ll figure something out in the shower.

He doesn’t. As he walks back to his locker, his ears are still ringing, his skin too hot, and he’s still just as lost.

“Uh,” Buck’s voice is unsure behind him. Eddie pulls on his LAFD shirt, turning to face him slowly. “Cream for your side. Hen said it should help.” He finishes, holding out the tube, his eyes focused on the floor.

Eddie takes it.

“Listen, I… I fucked up and you shouldn’t have gotten hurt like that. Hen said they weren’t broken. You’re ribs, I mean.” Buck sounds unsteady and upset, a weird mix he hasn’t heard since the lawsuit. No where close to the confidence Eddie’s accustomed to. He still won’t look at Eddie. Somehow that stings the most.

“It’s just a bruise.” He confirms, trying to keep his voice as even as possible, to not let his hurt or the fire seep through. He needs to get through this. For Bobby, for Christopher.

“Still,” Buck runs a hand through his hair, making it stand up in a funny twist. Normally, he’d laugh at that. “I fucked up and I’m sorry.”

“it’s okay.” It’s not. None of this is okay, but they have to get there. Close to it, at least. Close enough so Bobby doesn’t move Buck to different shifts. Close enough so Christopher isn’t asking if Buck isn’t going to be around anymore.

“Hey, about this morning.” Eddie begins. He’s going in blind, grasping for anything. He can’t bring up Alex’s words. Buck will only see it as an excuse, if he believes him that Alex even said it at all. “I was – I was just surprised – “

“Jesus, Eddie! You look like hell. You okay, Evan?”

Eddie’s blood runs cold at the interruption, at _Alex_ – then the fire in his veins is roaring, threatening to consume him where he stands, awkwardly out of place as Alex steps into the locker room towards them. He can’t hear anything with his the roaring in his ears.

What the fuck is he doing here. It’s nearly midnight and there’s no way Buck invited him over considering they spent the last two hours rescuing two reckless hikers. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His skins is itching. Whatever he was going to tell Buck lodges in his throat, and he coughs awkwardly, wincing at the pain.

“You okay, Eddie?” Buck’s finally looking at him and Eddie wants to shrink away from the concern in his eyes. He doesn’t deserve it.

“It’s fine. Just a tough call.” He directs the last part towards Alex who, at least, looks a little concerned, but there’s a small smile on his face that Eddie doesn’t quite trust.

“Uh, okay.” Alex says slowly, eyes darting between Buck and Eddie. “Well, I brought donuts. Couldn’t sleep and figured you guys could use the treat.” He holds up the box as he speaks.

Winning over the team, how great. It’s bitter and it burns, but it’s better than the awful throbbing taking over his chest.

Alex’s words snap Buck out of his stare, and he turns to Alex with a wide smile. “Great! We could really use it. I’ll show you up to the loft.”

Eddie watches them go.

No one even offered him a donut.

Assholes.

Therapy is therapy, which is to say Eddie’s annoyed before he even sets foot in Frank’s office. Though it doesn’t stop him from sinking unceremoniously into the couch cushions as soon a he’s waved through. It’s both reassuring and horrifying how comfortable he lets himself be.

As much as he grumbles and complains, avoids the ‘homework’ Frank encourages him to do like it might kill him, and mopes around afterword, he’s be able to admit that therapy is helping.

At least, he’s on his way to saying that.

Maybe.

“You know those stupid breathing exercises you make me do?” It’s out his mouth before he realizes, before Frank has even had the chance to say hello, and yeah, his tone sounds childish, but it feels good.

His skin has lost its fiery edge since he retreated to the bunk rooms last night, but his chest still throbs and he’s still angry.

So, he’ll worry about impressions later. Because right now sounding, _being_ childish feels good. Better than everything else.

Frank makes a noise that isn’t quite shocked, but it’s something. Eddie’s on a roll now, though, so he doesn’t stop to decipher it.

“Yeah, well, they suck but I guess it works? Cause I wanted to punch people and I _didn’t_.”

Gold star for Eddie Diaz. Maybe that’s the tactic Frank should be using with him – gold stars, like the kind Chris gets on his homework and tests.

“It’s good that it helped.” Whatever expression Frank might have pulled before, his voice is even. There’s no hint of shock or pity or anything else that would’ve made his gut twist.

But then Frank’s silent and ugh. Eddie’s well acquainted with this move. Frank’s expecting Eddie to fill the silence, to either elaborate on whatever he’s exposed or pick a more comfortable subject.

“You want to know why?” Of course, Frank does, but Eddie’s stalling, deciding how much he wants to say. How to say it.

Frank nods.

Eddie tilts his head back. It’s easier to look at the ceiling. Safer.

“I don’t know where to start. Except, well.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Buck probably thinks I’m homophobic. My kid’s sad that his Bucky’s leaving. His boyfriend is kinda of a dick. And we messed up on a call. And…” He trails off, deflated and out of steam.

Frank sounds unphased. “Why don’t you pick one thing from that to start and we’ll see where it goes. Circle back if we need to.”

He doesn’t want to pick any of what he’s just laid out, some gross, twisted bare bones list of all the things he’s messed up. He doesn’t want to circle back. He doesn’t even want to start. God, he hasn’t even told Frank that he’s failing as a father. He wants to pack it all up. He wants to pretend he didn’t spill any of it. He wants to bury it down deep. He wants to let the fire in his veins take over, find whatever release he can.

But, he knows, the consequences of that are too steep. He’ll lose his job. His son. And he can’t do that to Christopher. He can’t. So, he has to pick one, something. Anything. Anywhere to start.

He deserves another gold star.

Christopher. Christopher’s a safe place to start. It still means giving Frank some idea of where it all started, though. Slowly, he lowers his gaze back to Frank and finds some comfort in the easy expression there. No judgement, no worry. At least none that he can detect, just patience.

“Uh…” He blows out a steady stream of air, still figuring out how to put it all into words. Into something that makes sense. “There was a party as Bobby’s and Athena’s this weekend. Buck brought his boyfriend. I think. I think Christopher’s jealous. Or worried? That Buck’s not gonna be around. He asked about it yesterday morning. Kinda blindsided me. I mean it’s the start of school year, I’m expecting reluctance about school not _that_.” He says with the wave of his hand.

“Christopher and Buck are very close, right?”

Bronze star for you, Frank, Eddie thinks bitterly because the answer is obvious, but he nods anyway.

“It’s normal for kids to react to changes and, as I suspect you’ve thought about, Buck having a significant other means he might be around as frequently or in the same way. From everything you’ve told me, Buck’s a co-parent, someone you trust and lean on. It might not be an easy adjustment, but it’s still early.”

“I – “There’s some wild part of him that wants to deny that. He’s not sure why, except he’s imagines his parents’ reaction to the term and their disapproving looks. “Yeah,” Eddie says shakily. “I got really lucky with him.”

Someone who loves his kid just as fiercely, who walked miles broken and bloody after surviving a tsunami just to find him, to bring him home.

“Luck has nothing to do with it.” Frank reminds him firmly. Eddie just scoffs. “You have a strong relationship, that’s not something that occurs out of thin air. A relationship like yours? That takes considerable work on both ends.”

Work he nearly upended in the grocery store, work he’s nearly upending _now_ for some mistake he’s still not aware of, only knowing that he’s messed up from Buck’s continuing to ice him out.

“Yeah, well. What does it matter?” He shrugs. “He has a boyfriend. Neither of us are gonna be his priority now.”

“Neither of us?”

Wrong thing to say.

Christopher.

He’s meant to be talking about his son and his quiet worry yesterday morning, how he can mitigate the pain of his Bucky leaving. He’s not meant to be talking about himself.

Not right now, at least.

So, he ignores that little implication for now because he doesn’t want to deal with it. Frank’s always spouting some line about this being his time, anyway.

“How the hell am I supposed to reassure my kid that Buck’s gonna be around when I don’t even know anything about his boyfriend? When he’s not telling me anything? Fuck, it’s like… it’s like.”

It’s like Shannon.

When Shannon left with a fucking note and Eddie didn’t know when she was coming back or _if_ she was coming back at all. What it meant for him, what it meant for Christopher. What it meant for them as a family.

“Eddie, what’s it like?”

He can ignore Frank. He can change the subject, navigate it to safer waters, back to Christopher. He can do anything right now to not answer.

“Shannon.” Eddie breathes out her name. It still hurts to think about her, to speak about her. Maybe it always will. He failed her in more ways than one. “Not exactly, not really. But, uh, it reminded me of it, I guess.” He finishes lamely because now that he’s making the comparison to his dead wife out loud, it feels wrong.

Disgraceful almost.

In the end, they don’t circle back around to everything on the pathetic list he blurted out like the village idiot at the start of the session. He’s no closer to understanding his exact misstep with Buck or how he’s going to fix it. They don’t discuss Shannon any further because he physically can’t. It makes his throat close up. Alex doesn’t get mentioned at all – bringing up _that_ comment is too much after everything else. Frank only knows a little more of the incident cliffside after he winces when he stretches after thirty minutes because it’s an hour after a twenty-four shift and he’s close to crashing. They do discuss Christopher more, volleying different ideas and strategies he can do to both help Chris through this transition and to make sure he still feels like he has a connection with Buck.

“Do you still have the business card I gave you?”

The card with the after-hours hotline. Frank had scribbled one for vets on the back too before he handed it to him at the end of their first session together. Eddie’s never touched it beyond tucking it in the wallet. He nods.

“I don’t need it. I’m not gonna do something stupid.” He bites out because he hates the idea of Frank worrying about him till their next session. He’s fine. He’s exhausted, achy, maybe some combination of emotions he’s not ready to name or even acknowledge, but he’s fine. He needs Frank to understand that.

“I know, but today was a heavy session. You did a lot of hard work.” Frank looks almost proud as he says it. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I wasn’t sure you had resources, even if you don’t need them.” He adds, probably for Eddie’s benefit.

“Okay.” He shrugs. “It’s in my wallet.”

“Good. I’d also like you to take this.” Franks pulls out a small journal. “I’m not gonna make this homework or make you come to each session with something written, but I think it might help. You can use it like a dairy or just when you feel like. Hell, you can chuck it in the bin after. Okay, maybe don’t do that.” Frank smiles. “The point is, Eddie, the journal is yours. You decide what you want to do with it.”

Eddie takes the journal with a nod. There’s no way he’s writing in the journal if only in the sense that he doesn’t have the time. He’s either too exhausted or too busy. Maybe he can keep it around to give himself gold stars. All more likely, though, he’ll chuck it somewhere in his room and forget about it.

The drive home is awful due to traffic. Always fucking traffic at the end of a twenty-four-hour shift, keeping him from his bed. And it’s always standstill and bumper to bumper, the kind where it’s tempting to let his eyes close for a just second. Just one.

Buck – if everything was normal, Buck would be here in an instant. He’s done it before. But Eddie ignores his phone and, thus, the temptation to cave and call. Buck would pick up. Buck would push aside whatever he’s feeling, but Eddie can’t do that to him. It feels too much like taking advantage.

Maybe he needs to prepare himself for all the change too.

He makes it home through the combination of a loud rock station, cold air blasting on his face, and sheer will.

Getting through the house is a study in muscle memory. Keys in their place by their door, shoes tucked away so Chris can’t catch them with his crutches, clothes thrown in the vague direction of the laundry hamper, alarm set so he’ll get up in time to pick up Chris from school.

The journal gets tossed on his nightstand. He’ll deal with that later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter fought me and then *gestures* life, but it's here! i'm excited to get back into this and hope yall like it too! let me if there's anything you'd like to see as i'm still plotting out the later chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris bites his lips before asking, “Can we call Bucky?”  
> “Of course.” There’s no hesitation – the answer past his lips before he even blinks. Chris looks so small, curled up on the edge of bed, tears clinging to his eyelashes. Chris could ask for the moon, and if it made him feel better, Eddie would manage it.

He means to come up with some sort of a plan Tuesday night. Even if it’s one held together by spit and duct tape, he’ll take it. Anything is better than nothing with Bobby’s threat looming over him, over _them_ , but no plan magically shimmers into the air, readymade and foolproof.

In the end, he’s too exhausted, beaten by the last couple of days to think about anything concerning Buck too concretely. Instead, it’s a quiet night spent with Christopher, legos, and whatever Disney movie he’s feeling. Heating up the ready-made meals Abuela insists on leaving in his freezer for just this kind of occasion - really, _all_ occasions because his cooking is only marginally better with Cap’s and Buck’s instruction - turns out to be too much effort. He caves and orders pizza, something he tries to avoid on school nights - a rule he wishes he wasn’t breaking already two weeks into the school year.

Chris doesn’t mind, excited by the pizza and a chill night at home. At one point, he pats Eddie’s knee, telling him ‘it’s okay to feel sad’. He returns to his vague lego creation like he hadn’t just spoken some profound truth.

God, he really loves his kid.

After an extra story with Chris, Eddie finally gets to bed. But sleep doesn’t come. Worry continues to seep into every poor, pooling thick in his stomach. The cream Hen gave him via Buck is wonderful, but the bruises are still fresh, and his ribs still ache something awful. He slept so much earlier in the day too, and while he had needed it, it makes falling asleep now just that much more difficult.

“Dad!”

Eddie’s up in a heartbeat, making his way to Chris’s room before he can fully process his actions. He knows that cry. He knows before he takes in Chris’s tear stained cheeks and sniffling breaths that it’s a nightmare.

“Hey, buddy.” He keeps his voice soft, far away from the crashing anger at the world, at the universe. Far away from the thick, syrupy worry rolling deep in his gut. Kneeling next to the bed, his heart breaks. Chris’s curls are a mess and the sheets are bunched up. How long Christopher struggled silently before he called out for him, he doesn’t want to know, hoping it wasn’t long.

Eddie isn’t one to pray, to send up little wishes to some unknown entity above, but he does now. He prays that his son didn’t suffer.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently, thinking of Chris’s therapist’s recommendations. Forcing anything out of his son won’t help. If Chris wants to speak, Eddie will listen, but if he doesn’t then he won’t push.

Chris only sniffles.

Eddie swallows. Calm and collected, but honest. That’s what his son needs. He can’t give him any reason to think he has to hide his emotions away in fear of upsetting him. He’s made the mistake once. He can’t make it again.

“Do you want me to read another story?” Sometimes it helps, a distraction.

Chris shakes his head.

Eddie loses a breath. “Do you want to sleep in my bed? Or I can sleep in here with you?” It’ll be a tight fit, but he’s slept in worse conditions before. Sometimes his bed feels strange to him, even all these later. Not that he’ll be getting much sleep tonight. anyway.

Chris bites his lips before asking, “Can we call Bucky?”

“Of course.” There’s no hesitation – the answer past his lips before he even blinks. Chris looks so small, curled up on the edge of bed, tears clinging to his eyelashes. Chris could ask for the moon, and if it made him feel better, Eddie would manage it. 

But he can’t manage another person, not always.

Still, he’s going to try.

It’s nearly one in the morning, the time blaring up at him from his too bright screen as he navigates to the right number. Buck might be sleeping or otherwise occupied, but he’ll answer. Eddie knows, even with things strained as they are. Buck will answer.

And he does.

Buck answers on the second ring.

“E-Eddie?” His voice is rough, unsure, like he must have just woken up. So, he isn’t otherwise occupied then.

Something bubbles up in his gut at the thought. He squashes down. It’s hardly the time or place. Christopher just woke up from a nightmare, Buck isn’t speaking with him, his side still aches – none of this is right.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie pauses. Buck might not be doing _that_ , but that doesn’t mean he’s suddenly free. He’s taken advantage, he knows that. Buck doesn’t want him. Buck doesn’t want to be here or - One look at his son dispels any doubt starting to cloud his head. “Chris had a bad dream. You okay to talk to him?”

There’s shuffling on the other end of the line before, “Yeah. Is he okay?”

“I think he will be.” He answers, Chris is so strong, resilient. They’ve tackled these nightmares before, Eddie has to believe they can do it again. He has to. If he believes it then Chris will too.

Carefully, he turns the phone on speaker and places the phone next to Chris, still curled up on his side.

“There you go, buddy.” He whispers. Carefully, he pushes Chris’s curls back, trying to hide his cringe at how damp with sweat they are.

“Hey, superman.” Buck’s voice is bright, if he hadn’t answered the phone sounding disheveled, Eddie wouldn’t have known he was asleep, or close to it, a minute ago. “Your dad said you had a bad dream?”

“I did,” Chris gives a sad, sniffling nod. “I thought. You weren’t -” A small sob cuts off his words. Eddie swears his heart cracks around the edges at the sound. He wraps an arm around Chris’s shoulders. “I kept calling your name. You were gone.”

From the sharp inhale over the line, maybe Buck is feeling the same. “Oh, buddy. I’m right here. I’m here now. We both are.”

“Can Bucky come over, Daddy?” Chris asks, big tear-filled eyes blinking up at him. Buck is silent on the other end.

It’s rarely ‘daddy’ these days, always ‘dad’. Chris is growing up. Normally, he’s ecstatic when Chris uses the former, always a fond smile on his lips. Now, he’s blinking back tears, reminding himself to take a steadying breath. Chris needs him strong. He can’t fall apart now.

“It’s late,” He starts to say before he’s interrupted by Buck.

“Give me thirty minutes. I’ll be there soon, superman.” Buck promises.

Chris does, in fact, want to sleep in his room, so once Buck hangs up with another promise to be here as soon as he can, Eddie gently scoops him up. For a few moments, he stands there, holding Chris in his arms as he whispers.

For all that he feels comfortable with affection and encouragement with Chris, it’s something he’s had to learn. It’s something he’s had to teach himself. He doesn’t want to be like his own father, reminding him to sit up straight and get it together. The hugs and high-fives, putting together lunches and organizing his backpack, helping him with legos – the physical, tangible show of love and care he’s more confident with. Words, still, not so much. But now, ever since the nightmares and his own bruised fists, whatever little sureness Eddie felt has dissolved into second guesses and worried thoughts. Into fear that he isn’t enough for his son.

Christopher calms, though, his sniffling subsiding. So maybe, tonight, he’s got it right.

Eddie gets them situated in his bed, covers pulled up tonight.

“Dad, can you play the drawing game?”

“Yeah, superman. Wanna pick a topic?” He asks as Chris wiggles onto his stomach.

“Animals?”

“You got it.” Eddie answers, finger tracing out the shape of a cat against Chris’s back.

“Hm, a squirrel.”

“Cold.”

“A dog?”

“Warmer.”

“A cat!” Chris cheers with his victory, the sound so bright Eddie wants to hold onto it forever.

They get through a few more animals – a monkey, an elephant, a giraffe – by the time Eddie hears the familiar click of his front door. Before he can prepare himself, think of what to say, Buck is kneeling on the side of the bed closest to Christopher.

“Is he asleep?” He whispers, eyes locking on Eddie’s.

“Almost out.” Eddie whispers back – tracing shapes on Chris’s back almost always results in a sleepy kid.

“Should we wake him?”

“Uh,” Eddie swallows, unsure. When the nightmares were at their peak, it would be hours till Chris got back to sleep. He doesn’t want to risk that happening again, but he knows his son. Chris wanted Bucky; he doubts that changed in the last half hour. Chris will only be disappointed, if not upset, to learn Buck came over but didn’t talk to him come morning. “Yeah, let me.”

It doesn’t take much to wake up Christopher, just a gentle hand on his back as Eddie says his name a few times.

Chris blinks up at him. “Bucky here?”

“Just got here, superman. How we are feeling?” Buck answers, prompting Chris to turn his head and reach out his arm under the covers.

Buck looks up at Eddie, hesitation clear on his face. Wordlessly, Eddie lifts up the covers.

For Christopher – whatever his son needs right now.

As soon as Buck’s gotten himself under the covers, Chris rolls towards him and hides his face in his shoulder. Automatically, Buck’s hands reach up to soothe up and down Chris’s back.

“A little better.” Comes Chris’s answer a second later, muffled with the way he’s tucked so close to Buck.

Eddie focused his stare on some far away point on his bedroom wall. He can’t break down now. He can’t. Honesty with his son is one thing, but this, breaking down, barely holding it together is another. He can’t exactly start taking measured breathes either, not without Bucky noticing, but he can count silently in his head till the urge to sob lessens.

“A little better is good.” Buck answers, voice soft. “How can we make it a lot better?”

“Just want a hug.” Chris mumbles.

“I’m hugging you now. But maybe I need to hug you harder?” It’s all the warning Chris gets before Buck is holding him tighter causing him to erupt in giggles.

Eddie counts to ten. Cool, collected, and honest. That’s what Chris needs.

“A normal hug.” Chris says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Buck eases his grip in turn.

“Okay, superman.” He smiles. “Normal hug. Anything else we can do?”

We. It’s the second or third time Buck’s used it in the ten or so minutes he’s been here. He isn’t sure if it’s intentional or not. Still, Eddie appreciates it. Just like with Carla, Buck manages to hep without overstepping. No judgement, either.

And Eddie doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how easy it is for Buck to be here after everything. He knows it’s because of Chris, because Buck walked half of LA broken and bruised to get him home, but that doesn’t make this any easier to understand – how Buck’s here, in his bed, holding his son as if nothing has changed between them.

Chris is silent for a few long moments. Time stretches out, neither of them try to fill the silence. Maybe Chris has fallen asleep again. Just as well, they both need it. And once he’s sure Chris is sound asleep, he might, just maybe, be able to get some too.

Doubtful, really, but he’ll try.

But then, quietly, Chris breaks the silence. “You were…” He pulls back, reaching up to pat Buck’s cheek. Eddie can’t see his lips wobbling with how wrapped up he is in Buck’s arm, but he can hear the shakiness in his son’s voice all the same. “I thought you were gone like Mommy is.”

A second ticks by, Buck remains silent. Deferring to him, he realizes belatedly. He’s waiting for Eddie to speak. Of course, he would be.

Except, Eddie feels helplessly stranded. He doesn’t know what to say, where to even start. This isn’t… It isn’t like Chris’s previous nightmares, where the details of his mother’s death blurred together with the events of the tsunami. This isn’t hurt getting twisted up and confused, trying to make sense of something that shouldn’t ever have to make sense – losing his mother so young.

“Is this why you wanted Buck to come over?” It’s not a great start, he knows. But it’s a start, it’s something.

Chris nods. “I wanted to see you,” He says to Buck. “S-Sometimes I hear Mommy’s voice when I sleep. I-I wanted to be sure.”

He wanted to be sure Buck’s alive? Everything about this chills Eddie to the bone.

He counts to ten again.

“Oh, buddy. I’m right here, you don’t have to worry.” Buck says, just as Eddie asks, “Do you hear her voice a lot?”

Buck mouths sorry, Eddie shakes his head. He’s pretty sure Chris needs to hear it regardless.

Chris sniffles. He’s not sobbing, but from the way his breath hitches, he must be close to it. “Y-Yeah. Do you?”

Eddie swallows. “All the time.” It’s the truth, close enough to it that he doesn’t feel bad about the answer.

But he doesn’t feel great either.

His dreams, just like their relationship had been, are complicated. He tries to hold onto all the good things about her – and god, there were so many – but it’s like the bad things – the screaming, the fights – are a tidal wave so huge, that everything good thing is drowned out. Try as he might, he doesn’t know how to hold onto the precious memories – dancing at that club so tiny there was barely room to breathe, the first ultrasound, looking up at the stars as they lay in the back of his shitty pick up, making plans for their future.

And he can’t be angry at her. He can’t be angry her because she died. Being angry at a dead person… That’s not… It isn’t right.

“What does she say?” The question is muted, Chris has tucked his face back into Buck’s shoulder again. The jealousy stings.

Eddie counts to ten. Twenty. Thir-

“Daddy?”

“W-We talk about you, superman.” He answers, voice unsteady. Blinking a few times, he wills himself not to cry. He runs his hand up and down Chris’s back, not sure if the action is meant to be more soothing for Chris or for himself. “We talk about you. Whatever’s going on – the math test you aced, the new hermit crab you got.”

“I miss her.”

It’s not fair. Any of this. Shannon dying, Shannon leaving. Wanting to leave _again_ and then dying. And, fuck, Christopher doesn’t know. He can’t know. He’ll never know. Eddie will take it to his grave because he can’t ruin that for Christopher, he can’t ruin the imagine Chris has of his mother. Eddie ruined Shannon; he broke her. With the army, reenlisting. Coming back broken, stuck in his head. He can’t continue to ruin her.

He can’t ruin Christopher. He can’t drag him down.

“I miss her too. All of the time.” He answers with a shaky voice.

He doesn’t even know if he’s allowed to miss her. She wanted to leave. She wanted a divorce. And she died and everyone pitied him. Everyone saw him as a widower, made more tragic by their reconnection. None of it is fair. None of it is right. Shannon should be here. Not in this bed, not with him, but here.

Alive.

He should’ve made Chim intubate. He should’ve told Shannon to shut up, to save it. To tell him after. In the hospital. He should’ve –

“Daddy?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re crying.”

He blinks a few times, suddenly aware of the wetness on his cheeks. At some point, Chris turned on his side to face him, still wrapped up in Buck’s arms. Buck’s eyes are huge. Eddie turns his gaze onto his son. Blocks everything else out.

“Yeah, I am.”

“That’s okay.” Chris whispers.

“You’re right.” He answers in a broken whisper of his own that is more air than words.

There’s another long moment of silence, filled only by the sounds of their breathing. Eventually, Chris turns back towards Buck, asking for a story.

Buck’s animated voice fills the room. The words of some convoluted story that he can’t keep track of wash over him.

He tries counts to thirty.

Shannon.

He counts to four, holds his breath.

The ear-piercing shriek of metal on metal.

He counts to four, releases.

The staccato burst of gunfire.

Numb coldness, weighing his limbs down.

Blood, so much blood pouring out of Buck’s mouth.

Shannon.

Christopher’s glasses hanging around Buck’s neck.

The rhythmic beating of helicop-

Eddie gasps as the bed shifts. His cheeks are wet again.

He blinks up at the ceiling.

What the fuck?

“Christopher’s asleep.” If his limbs weren’t so numb, so detached they could belong to someone else, he would jump at Buck’s whisper.

“Eddie?”

Shit. Was he supposed to say something? Probably. Fuck. He can’t…

He can’t talk.

“Uh, Chris is asleep. So, I’m just gonna… go.”

“D-Don’t.” He manages, his throat clicking with the effort.

“What?”

“Go to. Sleep.” Each word feels heavy on his tongue.

“Okay.” Buck says into the darkness. The bed shifts again, Buck settling back in.

Ten minutes turn into thirty, he thinks. It could be an hour. Or hours. He doesn’t know how long he lays there staring up at the ceiling. For a while he listens to the sounds of Chris’s and Buck’s even breathing.

Eventually, it lulls him into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as they say life finds a way.... to keep you from updating  
> my wifi was out for a week  
> at least the next chapter should *fingers crossed* be posted soon, i have a good chunk written  
> originally this and the next chapter were one complete chapter, but it worked out better for them to be separate


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